


Protégé

by mirokai



Series: His Professional Capacity [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Assassins, BAMF Mycroft Holmes, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Greg is Sweet, Inappropriate Flirting, M/M, Mycroft is a Softie, Mycroft's Work Kids, Mycroft's job, Protective Greg Lestrade, Spies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28819026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokai/pseuds/mirokai
Summary: Mycroft and Greg's date gets interrupted. Greg encounters one of Mycroft's protégés.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: His Professional Capacity [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078895
Comments: 42
Kudos: 147





	Protégé

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place six months after [The Dangerous Parts](/works/28539300) but you don't necessarily need to have read that one. All you need to know is that Mycroft is still recovering from a broken femur here.  
> Note that there is an action-y sequence early in this story where a gun is fired, but no one is shot.

Mycroft had decided that Greg in summer was one of his favorite things to look at. The light dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing the strong forearms. The healthy glow of his skin, the way he held his highball glass, licked his fingers after he squeezed the lime wedge into his gin and tonic. 

Mycroft was enjoying the view at a small restaurant where he and Greg had placed their dinner orders. Their opportunities to go out to eat since Mycroft’s “car accident” nearly 6 months ago had been severely limited. First there was Mycroft’s reluctance to navigate any space besides his home and the office when he was still in the full leg cast, and then the brace, combined with the onslaught of issues to catch up on when he was back to work full time. But now he was walking fairly steadily with just a cane, the pain was tolerable compared to what it had been, and he and Anthea had managed to keep this evening and the upcoming weekend free. 

Greg finished describing a goal he had scored at the match his recreational football team had played the previous evening. Mycroft had encouraged him to return to the team several months ago, after Greg had given up the flat that he hadn’t been to in months and officially moved in with Mycroft. The exercise, the time spent with friendly acquaintances, the fresh air, and - most importantly - something out of the house that was just  _ his,  _ were all clearly good for Greg. “It sounds very exciting,” Mycroft replied to the story, “perhaps I shall come watch...” he trailed off. 

“Aw, it’s not really fit for spectators, darlin’, besides if you were there I’d spend all my time looking at you instead of playing.” 

But Mycroft’s attention had been taken by his driver entering the restaurant.  _ Oh no. _ Greg must have observed his changed expression because he turned to follow Mycroft’s gaze. 

“Is that Lucy?” he asked. 

As Mycroft watched, the driver turned to look over her shoulder, and her jacket moved to give a glimpse of the gun from the car’s hidden compartment tucked into her waistband.  _ Oh, this was bad. _ “Gregory,” he said quietly, “we may not be able to have dinner after all. … What is it, Simmons?” Mycroft asked, keeping his voice calm as the driver approached. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’ve got to go,” Simmons replied. “Romer and Vaden clocked a couple suspicious blokes as you were coming in here and when they ran facial recognition it turns out they’re affiliated with-” her eyes slid sideways to Greg and she cleared her throat, “people who are not fans of yours, sir. Romer and Vaden went after them but lost them. Backup’s coming but we need to get you out of the open.” 

Mycroft grimaced. “I’m sorry, Gregory.” 

Greg was already on his feet and reaching for Mycroft. “None of that, come on let’s get you home.” 

“Office, I’m afraid,” Simmons said as Mycroft gathered the cane and let Greg help him to his feet. “A team will have to fully secure the house before you go back to it. Right now the top priority is getting you to safety, bringing those two in, and making sure they didn’t have more friends.” 

Mycroft winced a bit with his first step and kept hold of Greg’s arm as they moved off between the tables. 

“Got an extra gun, Lucy?” Greg asked Simmons quietly. “I’m not carrying.” 

“In the car,” she replied. “Under the back seat. Mr. Holmes can show you.” 

Greg positioned himself so that Mycroft was between him and Simmons as they reached the door. 

“Gregory,” Mycroft said, “you are the civilian in this situation, you don’t -“ 

Greg shook his head. “‘M not a civilian, darlin’, I’m an officer of the law and you’ve got a bum leg. Stay between me ‘n Lucy, alright?” 

“The car’s just at the kerb, sir. You and Lestrade get straight in while I go to the front.”

Mycroft took a breath and nodded. Simmons paused, looking around through the glass of the door, then pushed it open. 

Just as they stepped onto the pavement two figures came tumbling out of an alley ten feet away, struggling with each other. Mycroft caught a glimpse of a young face framed by shaggy brown hair and his heart sank.  _ Romer _ . 

Simmons cursed and grabbed Mycroft’s arm, putting herself between him and the men. The unexpected motion made Mycroft stumble and he grabbed for Greg, who caught him easily. 

BANG! 

_ Oh god!  _ “Romer!” 

BANG! BANG! 

Greg was shoving him bodily into the car, his previously injured thigh slamming painfully onto the seat and making him see stars. Then Greg was diving in after him and Simmons was in the front, peeling out with a screech of rubber. 

“Romer!” Mycroft gasped, “Is Romer alright? Was he shot?”

Greg was opening Mycroft’s jacket, running his hands over the waistcoat and his arms. “Are  _ you  _ alright, Myc? The fucker was shooting at you!”

“I’m - I’m fine. I wasn’t shot.” Greg continued feeling him all over. “Gregory,” he snapped. “I was not injured. I’m fine.”

Greg finally sat back, only to be knocked back onto Mycroft as Simmons took a sharp turn. They both righted themselves and put their seatbelts on. 

“Simmons, are you alright?” 

“Fine, sir!” 

“Are you on coms? Can you hear Romer?” 

“Yes, sir. I’m not sure what’s going on though. I think he’s fighting.” 

“Give me your earpiece, Simmons.” 

“Mycroft, let her drive,” Greg put in. 

“Simmons,” Mycroft said, ignoring his partner, “your earpiece. Now.” 

Without taking her eyes off the road Simmons ripped the com link out of her ear and tossed it in the back seat. Mycroft quickly wiped it on his pants then put it in his ear. He immediately heard panting breaths. “Romer … Peter, are you alright?”

“M-Mr. Holmes?” The thick Scottish accent was a balm to Mycroft’s soul. “Sir? That you? Ya weren’t shot were ya? I’m so sorry, Mr. Holmes, he never shoulda got that close.”

“It’s me, Peter, I’m fine, he missed. You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

The young man laughed and raised his voice. “Ya hear that you cocksucking motherfucking wanker?! Ya missed him ya mafia piece of shite!! Yeah what’re your Cossack big brother bosses gonna say to that ya fucker? Oh wait, you’ll never know cos you’ll spend the rest of your life rotting in a British prison. Oi!” A sharp intake of breath. 

“Peter!” Mycroft cried.

“S-sorry, sir. Bit of … bit of a knife fight going on here. Aaarrgh. I- uh- I may need some stitches, sir.” 

Before Mycroft could reply a female voice cut in. “This is Ahmad. I’m one minute out from Romer’s position. I have backup.”

_ Oh thank god.  _ Mycroft kept his voice sharp. “I want to see you both in my office, in one piece, tonight. That is an order. Am I understood?” Both agents gave affirmative answers and Mycroft knew better than to listen to the subsequent fight. “Holmes out.” He removed the earpiece and handed it back to Simmons, then collapsed back into the seat, closing his eyes. 

_ Romer was injured. _ He’s a field agent, these things happen.  _ Romer was injured protecting me. _ He was apprehending a foreign national who had committed assault and attempted murder.  _ He was only in this situation because I recruited him.  _ If I hadn’t recruited him he would probably be dead of an overdose by now or, best case, still living on the streets of Edinburgh.  _ He volunteered for my security detail.  _ …  _ Ahmad is in jeopardy now too.  _ Ahmad said she had backup. They are both skilled agents and together they can easily take down one thug, especially with backup.  _ If it is just one thug.  _ They have backup. 

The car stopped and Mycroft opened his eyes to see that they were in the underground parking structure of his office. Greg gave his hand a quick squeeze, then got out and came around to help him out of the car. Simmons was standing by the open driver side door. 

“Good work today and good driving, Simmons.” Mycroft squeezed her shoulder. 

“Thank you, sir. I’ll coordinate with the team securing the house and let Anthea know when it’s alright to leave.” 

“Thank you, Simmons.” 

Mycroft took Greg’s arm and proceeded into the building. “Damnit,” he muttered as they got onto the elevator. 

“What is it?” Greg asked. 

“I didn't get a status on Vaden. I was so distracted by Romer.” Mycroft shook his head at himself in disgust. “I shouldn't have favorites,” he chided. 

“To be fair, the one you see grappling with a bad guy with a gun is pretty distracting,” Greg reasoned. “I’m sure you’ll be able to get a full update once we’re upstairs.” 

And in fact Anthea was waiting as soon as they exited the elevator. Though she was wearing a normal professional dress and blazer, her hair was up and she was wearing glasses, not contact lenses. Clearly she had gone home shortly after he had left for the day, only to be called back. Her gaze swept over him quickly and a flicker of relief showed on her face. 

“Sir. Glad you’re alright.” 

“Thank you, Anthea. Bring me up to speed please.” 

“Vaden and the team that went to back him up have already brought their target in. Romer, Ahmad, and their team should be back shortly with their target. Romer is injured. Ahmad thinks the doctor can handle it so I’ve asked the doctor to report here. A team is at your house now, securing it, but the preference is for you to stay here at least until we have a better sense whether the two that were caught were the only ones. Parnell is running point on that operation and will cover interrogating the targets. We’ll also need to reassign someone to cover Romer’s spot on your detail. Vaden should be fine to stick with you.” 

Mycroft felt his grip on Greg’s arm and the cane tighten as a wave of fatigue washed over him. He sighed. “Alright. It was the Solntsevskaya Bratva?” 

Anthea glanced at Greg. 

“His clearance is high enough now,” Mycroft said. 

“It is?” Greg’s voice lifted in surprise. 

“I had your clearance raised when you moved in with me,” Mycroft explained. “In the event something like this happened.” 

“We believe it’s Solntsevskaya, sir,” Anthea said. “Both the assassins are affiliated with them.” 

Mycroft nodded. “You’ll keep me apprised of any updates, of course, and send Romer and Ahmad in as soon as they get here.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Mycroft and Greg entered the large, beautifully appointed office and Greg shut the door behind him. “You’re shaking, love.” 

Mycroft steered them over to the couch. “I’m tired. My leg hurts. And I know if Ahmad didn’t think Romer needed the hospital then he’ll be fine, but -” Mycroft grunted as he lowered himself down to the couch and started trying to massage away the pain in his thigh, “I just worry about him. He’s barely more than a child, Gregory.” 

“Can I get you a drink?” Greg asked. 

Mycroft nodded. “Please.” 

Greg headed over to the drinks cart. “Romer is one of your proteges?” 

“I recruited him. Off the street, no less.” 

Greg returned with two tumblers of scotch, handed one to Mycroft and sat beside him. “How did that happen?” 

“Thank you.” Mycroft took a sip. “When he was sixteen Peter’s parents turned him out of their home upon finding him in the arms of another boy. He ended up living rough in Edinburgh, mostly picking pockets and shoplifting to survive. About five years ago, two of my field agents were conducting an operation there, when they realized this homeless teenager kept showing up everywhere they were. Thinking he was working for the other side, they pulled him in but it turned out that he just noticed them following someone so he decided to follow them. This half-starved, occasionally stoned, untrained boy was managing to tail experienced agents. When I arrived at the conclusion of the operation, they brought him to meet me, and I could see he was special. I arranged for him to finish secondary school and go to university. He completed university in two years and came to work here.” 

“You care about him,” Greg said quietly.

Mycroft nodded, taking another sip of scotch. “Peter’s instinct for the work is incredible and he’s blazingly brilliant. He needs more training and we’re working on self-discipline, but he will be an invaluable agent some day.” He sighed. “And yes, I care about him. Very much.”

Greg moved a little closer and placed his hand on the back of Mycroft’s neck, starting to massage the tense muscles. Mycroft sighed and leaned into the touch. “Thank you.”

“Can I ask a question about… this evening?”

Mycroft chuckled without humor. “After I’ve put your life in danger and am keeping you from your home? Yes, I’d say you deserve some answers, Gregory.”

Greg frowned. “You didn’t put my life in danger, darlin’. Those assassins did.”

“You easily could have caught a stray bullet when I was being shot at. And now that you live with me and are seen in the open with me, there’s the possibility that someone will think to use you to get to me.” 

Greg took Mycroft’s hand in both of his own and gently kissed each finger. “I’ve known that was a possibility since our third date, darlin’. I don’t care. You’ve got a dangerous job. I’ve got a dangerous job. Life is short and could be even shorter for both of us. I love you. I want to be with you. Even if that means dodging bullets now and again.”

Mycroft caressed Greg’s cheek then leaned in to kiss him. The scotch on their breath mingled together with the scents of their colognes. When the kiss ended Mycroft rested his forehead against Greg’s. “I love you so much, Gregory.” 

“More than words can say, darlin’.” Greg planted a light kiss on Mycroft’s lips and sat back with a chuckle. “I still get a kick out of you referring to the house as my home.”

“It is your home, my love. As long as you’re willing to occasionally be kept from it by a security team sweeping it for hidden assassins.” 

“The smallest of prices to pay.” Greg sipped his drink. “Who did you say it was? Solo Sky Bravo something?”

Mycroft chuckled. “Solntsevskaya Bratva. A part of the Russian mafia.”

“Is my clearance now high enough to ask why Sol… part of the Russian mafia is trying to kill you?”

Mycroft was torn, briefly, between an innate impulse for modesty and the desire for Greg to have a clear view of the danger. “Some years ago I was responsible for shutting down their operation in the UK.” Mycroft leaned back into the couch, closing his eyes. “Destroyed rather a lot of their infrastructure.” A small smirk crossed his lips with the memory. “That they are sending people after me now may be because they want revenge, but is more likely that they see me as an obstacle to rebuilding here.” 

Anthea’s voice came over the intercom. “Mr. Holmes, Ahmad and Romer are here, as is the doctor. May I send them in?”

Mycroft pushed the button beside him to respond. “Yes, Anthea, thank you.” He gathered the cane and used it to push himself to his feet with a grimace. 

The door opened and Ahmad and Romer staggered in, Romer’s arm over Ahmad’s shoulders and Ahmad’s arm wrapped around Romer’s back. Mycroft started forward, his breath hissing through his teeth. “Peter.”

Romer squinted at him through one eye, the other swollen shut. “Sir? You’re really alright? He really missed you?” 

Mycroft crossed the rest of the way to them and cupped the back of Romer’s head. “I’m fine, Peter. He could hardly get a clean shot with you on top of him. You weren’t so lucky, my boy.” 

“I’ll be fine, sir. Doctor’ll stitch me up in no time. Nothing to worry about. And he looks much worse.” Romer looked up at Mycroft, his good eye shining with earnest intensity as the words tumbled out of him in a rush. “Sir, I’m so sorry! My first week back on your detail and I let him get that close. It never should have happened, sir! We shouldn’t have lost them! Especially when you’re still recovering from-”

“Peter,” Mycroft cut him off quickly, “that’s enough. You and Vaden did everything right. You identified the threat, you gave me ample warning, I got to safety without being injured, and you brought the targets in. I’m only unhappy that you were injured in the process.” 

Romer looked down, a blush starting to show around the bruising on his face. “I’ll be alright, sir.” 

Mycroft turned to the woman still supporting Romer. “Ahmad? Were you hurt?”

“Nah, sir. I came in armed, unlike this idiot.” 

“He got my gun away from me!” Romer protested. “I got his away from him too, and I still had my knives!” 

Mycroft stepped back and gestured to the doctor waiting in the doorway. “Let’s get you seen to, Romer.” 

Ahmad transferred Romer’s weight to the doctor and stepped back. “Sir, I believe Parnell is going to start the interrogations soon. Alright for me to join him?” 

“Yes, Ahmad, thank you. Please tell Parnell that I will speak to both of our guests in the morning and I would like them in a condition that they will be able to hear and understand what I have to say.” 

Ahmad smirked. “Yes, sir.” She drew herself to attention for a moment and gave him a curt nod, then left. 

Mycroft stepped out of the way for the doctor to help Romer to the couch. As he moved, Romer was able to see Greg for the first time since entering. The young agent’s face immediately brightened. “Ah, Silver Fox is here! Hullo, Silver Fox!”

Greg gave a good natured chuckle. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Romer, instead of seeing you out the window or across the street.” 

Romer squeezed his eyes shut and groaned a little as the doctor helped him lower himself onto the couch. “You’re even better looking up close than you are through a lens, Silver Fox,” he said breathily. 

“Romer.” The warning in Mycroft’s voice was tempered by the smile he was barely managing to conceal. 

“Sir, it’s not my fault you’ve taken up with someone this gorgeous.” Romer grinned. 

“Remove your shirt, Mr. Romer, let’s look at that slice you’ve got,” the doctor instructed.

“Oh, gladly,” Romer flashed a wink at Greg. When the bloody shirt was removed, Romer was revealed to have a three inch cut across his pec, as well as a deep gash in his left side. 

“I’ll just bandage the one on your chest, but we’ll do a local anesthetic and stitches in your side,” the doctor said. 

“Can I have a nip of that whiskey while you’re working, doc?” 

The doctor nodded, and Mycroft, who was about to sit in an armchair across from Romer, started to turn. 

“Sit, love,” Greg ordered, heading to the drinks cart. “I’ve got it.” 

“Romer, you were favoring your right leg too,” Mycroft observed, as he pulled out his mobile and started reading a message from Parnell “are you cut there as well?”

“No, sir. He got a kick in at my kneecap. Just bruised is all.” 

Greg brought Romer a tumbler of scotch, and the young man made sure to touch his hand when taking it. “Thank you very much, Silver Fox,” Romer purred. 

Greg gave him a patient smile. “You’re welcome, and you’re not my type.” 

“Well, I’m not exactly looking my finest now am I? But once I get cleaned up…” 

Greg shook his head. “You’re too young for me, kid.”

“Doesn’t bother me. Didn’t Mr. Holmes tell you I have daddy issues?”

“Not interested,” Greg said with a glance at Mycroft, who was typing something on his mobile. “And taken.”

Romer hummed. “ _ He’s  _ not interested either,” he said with a nod at Mycroft. “Never has been, more’s the pity for me. But he’s very interested in you, and now I fully see why.”

“Alright, Romer, that’s enough,” Mycroft cut in as he pocketed his mobile again. “Stop flirting with my partner or you will find yourself with a permanent posting to Beijing.”

“Aw, sir, you know my Mandarin’s crap.” 

“I do know that, Romer. I suspect that after a few years we shall see your skill much improved.” 

While Romer kept up a stream of cheeky banter through being stitched and bandaged, he did lay off of Greg and even addressed him as “Inspector.” When the doctor was done, Anthea brought Romer a clean, unripped shirt and the young man gingerly put it on. 

“Alright Romer, go home. Rest,” Mycroft instructed. 

“Sir, I was just going to nip downstairs and watch Parnell.” 

“Absolutely not. Go home and sleep, Romer.” 

“Aw, but sir-“

“You are lucky that I’m not putting you at an analyst’s desk for the next month.” Mycroft’s tone brooked no argument. “ _ If _ you do as you’re told tonight, you may  _ observe  _ my interviews with our guests tomorrow morning.” 

Romer’s face lit up. “In the room, sir?”

“No, over the feed.” 

Romer shrugged. “Still a Holmes interrogation. Brilliant.” 

Anthea entered at that point and Mycroft turned his attention to her. Romer took a few steps towards Greg. “Oi, Silver Fox.”

Greg raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Listen, we’ve got eyes all over the outside of the house but… keep a gun in the bedroom at night, yeah? Just in case? Mr. Holmes may already have one, but I can’t ask him.” Concern shone through every bit of Romer’s bruised face. 

Greg patted his shoulder. “Yeah kid, I’ve got it. Go get some rest. He’ll know in the morning if you haven’t.”

Romer’s cheeky grin returned. “Yeah, right. Nice to properly meet ya, Silver Fox.”

“You too, kid.”

“Romer,” Mycroft called, “what did I say about flirting?” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir!” 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are like the first whiff of spring air after a long cold winter. 
> 
> Come chat with me on [tumblr](https://themirokai.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
